Autumn Equinox - To The Trees Edition #55

The last warm days of Summer drift into the first cool nights of Autumn conjuring romantic misty mornings. We find ourselves lost, somewhere in between the seasons, half shrouded beneath the mists of Avalon.

Summer’s residue still warms our surface as Autumn begins to get under the skin. The equinoctial point of perfect balance is upon us, the time at which the Sun’s set and Full Moon’s rise, for one night only, happen within minutes of each other. This year, a clear night allowed for a fine view of this display, from the only place where it’s possible to see both horizons, upon the top of Glastonbury Tor.

At this time of the year the days and nights are of equal length, and I too find myself somewhat half and half, almost nearly, neither here, nor there. This time of change brings with it a feeling of rawness of vulnerability, as we stand before Winter’s unknown.

As I wander the lanes of Stone Down, I imagine the beastly Winter’s first stirrings beneath September’s muddy rug. I picture her slumbering, half awake, half dreaming, the moist mossy mammoth of Winter, gently disturbing her earthen blanket, ready to gulp the first yawned breath upon the landscape, and lay to rust all the hard work of Summer.

The textures of soaked bark and saturated mosses, the towering dried seed heads of hedgerow hogweed, doc and thistle, tickle my sight and touch. Ripe, over-ripe, and fermenting apples, mulching leaves and foraged fruits tempt the sense of smell and taste, while my ears enjoy the continued thud of the orchard, and reattune to the squidge and squelch over the scuff and scrape. In Autumn, all feels more felt – a visceral infiltration of the senses by the season.

In these months, the separateness of man and nature becomes less apparent. Like wetted lichen, we are more revealed, exposed, and honest. She seems closer and more penetrating, more able to reduce one to ruin, and I am more perforated, feelings rawer and emotions nearer the surface, easily probed by Winter’s first prickles.

As I slide into Autumn’s story, already half sunken, her mulch collects upon my boots and weighs upon each foot’s lift, I prepare to be reformed. In the Summer I sit with the trees, lazily observing and dreaming. In Autumn, I become the land, I absorb the season and the damp and the chills creep like blotted ink, trickling black fractals that crack my thoughts.

The abruptness of change during this time of equinoctial balance is unsettling. From experience, it might take until the first frost of Samhain for Autumn’s talons to fully penetrate skin still warmed by the flame of Summer. Only then will this process feel less uncomfortable. For now, I experience a period of longing for a season past, accompanied in piercing juxtaposition to an equal longing for consumption by the gaping mouth of Winter.

Summer brings its own warmth, but in Winter we must make our own protection from the creeping cold. When perception seems to be reduced to the candle’s bubble of light, and one can see no further than that wick’s ability to illuminate – it’s taking up our own responsibility within the community that will hold us together, in place, keep us warm, and light the way through Winter’s transforming abyss.

And so, with that in mind, and in true seasonal style, I have enjoyed picking the apples at the wild roots project in Baltonsborough, a community project dedicated to finding wellbeing in nature. I have enjoyed leaf peeping at the first touches of Autumn’s rust and look forward to guiding the season’s tree walks – two autumnal excursions ending with a Samhain walk – Book: Autumn Tree Walks.

I am preparing for a performance of songs at St John’s Church on the 3rd October and a Glastonbury folk club gig at the start of November and am working on the recording of a new version of A prayer for Avalon with Jenny and William.

Furthermore, I recently spent some time with Michelle at owl enlightenment. She kindly offered to introduce myself and Crosby to the owls, and we have decided to launch a collaborative experience, a winning combination of tree walk and owl handling – arranged for the Winter Solstice in December. You can find more details here… event details.

For all upcoming walks see the To The Trees homepage.

For now, we walk to the trees…